Read Online Ghostland by Jory Strong - Free Book Online

do you mean?”
    Movement at the corner of Aisling’s eye distracted her. Her heart rate spiked when she turned her head and saw the snake moving toward them in a mesmerizing glide of scales over wood. Its likeness to the serpent tattooed on Zurael’s arm was unmistakable.
    Elena gasped and started to rise from her chair.
    “It’s all right,” Aisling said automatically, though she had no idea whether it was or not. The snake was venomous, the demon as lethal in this form as in any of his others.
    Golden eyes gleamed in the dusky room as Zurael closed the distance between them. With ease he found the edge of the couch and followed it with his upper body until he reached the armrest. He dipped his head to allow gravity to work in his favor as he slid down to the cushion and across to Aisling, the rest of his body following in an exotic pattern of black and gold.
    Aisling’s pulse raced. Her breath shortened as Zurael’s upper body rose once again, swaying like a cobra ready to strike.
    His face was only inches away from hers but she didn’t cower away from him. She refused to cringe each time he tested her.
    His tongue flicked out to touch her cheek, to taste her fear and measure it. For an instant she thought she saw approval in the golden depths of his eyes when she didn’t flinch.
    He coiled himself around her arm and rested his head on the back of her hand in perfect imitation of the tattoo he wore in his human form. His scales were smooth and warm against her skin, his tongue a whisper across her knuckles.
    Aisling glanced at the ferret curled on the chair and smiled. If Zurael thought to horrify or terrify her, then he’d failed. Aziel had once taken the body of a huge, heavily banded king snake. She’d spent hours with him draped over her neck or coiled around her waist.
    Elena dropped back into her seat. Aisling’s attention returned to her guest.
    “I want to hire you to find out what happened to me last night,” Elena repeated, reaching into the pocket of her jacket and pulling out a change purse with fancy stitching. She tossed it on the coffee table between them.
    The sound of it hitting the table was like a gunshot in the still room. Aisling really looked at Elena then. Instead of images of a naked female painted with sigils and lying helpless on an altar, she saw the cut of Elena’s clothing, the expensive weave, the jewels she wore on her fingers and wrists, her neck and ears.
    “Go ahead and count it,” Elena said with a negligible wave of her hand toward the coffee table.
    Aisling opened the purse. Her hands shook slightly when she saw the pieces of silver. They were more valuable than the coins and bills created by the Treasury. Even now, long after The Last War and the plague, the distrust of anything other than gems or fine metals as payment lingered.
    With enough silver coins she could return home. She could give something back to the woman who’d taken her in as an abandoned infant and raised her with love and acceptance.
    Aisling counted the silver pieces. There were ten of them.
    “That’s half of what I’m willing to pay you,” Elena said.
    Aisling closed the purse and returned it to the table. Her palms were damp as she rubbed them over her knees. “What do you mean when you say you want to find out what happened to you last night?”
    “I want to know how I ended up on that altar. The last thing I remember is being at a club. Then I woke up in a room at the church. A nun was washing the bottom of my feet and Father Ursu was praying over me. They wouldn’t let me leave until they were sure I wasn’t possessed.” She shivered, and for an instant the anticipation glittering in her eyes gave way to a fear.
    “Won’t the authorities investigate?”
    “No. Not now. Luther swallowed his pride when he asked Bishop Routledge for help.” Elena’s lips twisted in distaste. “Luther’s wife is devout and from an extremely influential family. She’s been confessing her sins to